Rather see the real one
by Lanceletta
Summary: Part one: What if Molly is no longer infatuated with Sherlock and it is really annoying him? Part two is more serious, but don't be alarmed, I like happy endings too. They just needed a little twist and drama.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This is my first Sherlolly fic. I hope you like it. I have the next chapters in my mind if you like this first one. It was fun to write it hope, it will be fun to read it. My first language is not English, but I try my best. If there's anybody who would be so kind to beta my story I would be very happy, but I really don't want to cause problem to anybody. Thanks.**

**Lanceletta**

**Now let's start!**

**Part 1**

Ch1

'Nooo, he didn't, did he?' Molly was absolutely stunned but almost unable to articulate of cackling.  
'Please don't say more 'couse I won't make it until I reach the loo.' Molly tried to calm herself down which seemed to be a quite difficult task, considering the fact that she had an equally tipsy, giggling Mary Morstan by her side.

Molly and Mary were sitting in a city bar newly opened and were sipping their suspiciously colourful cocktails. It was half past eleven and Mary's big night, last night out without having a husband. The bar's interior was created carefully. Everything was deep red and warm and fluffy. Huge couches, soft armchairs and big pillows were everywhere. The dance floor was crowded by tipsy dancing people, usually a little younger than told women and the music was loud and pulsating. They were sitting on a huge couch in one corner with legs tucked beneath them.

'Can you imagine John walking out from my bedroom to greet my mother in only a huge white sheet covering his naked lower body?' Mary asked trying to catch her breath.  
'Oh, I don't think it would be proper to imagine.' Molly laughed grimacing.  
'My mum was breathless. At least it was quite a good lesson for her not to use her spare key to my flat without prior discuss.' They finally managed to stop laughing hysterically.  
'Let's have another round, Molls!'  
'Really? I am already sure that there will be huge gaps in tonight's memories tomorrow.'  
'Hahaaa, then youuu have to admit that youuuu've lost the drinking competition!'  
'Nooo way!' and Molly waved for another round. Marry put out her phone from her purse and started to type with uncertain fingers.  
'What are you doing?'  
'I text John to ask how his bachelor party is.'  
'No. I promised you that I won't allow you to call or text him. Remember? You two agreed not to contact each other at your last single night.' And with that Molly snatched the phone away from her friend.  
'Awhh. You can't be so cruel.'  
'Yes, I can! Drink!' And Molly pointed at Mary's drink and took a sip from her own. 'I can easily drink you under the table.'  
'Hahh, that would be practically a miracle.' snapped Mary and drunk half of her cocktail.  
'I have an idea. You can text Sherlock - it's not against the rules - and ask him how John is.' Mary raised her eyebrows questioningly.  
Molly hesitated for a moment and nodded.  
'I think I can do that. With one condition. You never ever try matchmaking again.'  
It was Mary's time to hesitate.  
'Cruel condition, but...it's a deal.' and Mary offered her hand. Molly took and shook it, ordered another round and took her phone into her hands.  
'Ok, then. What do you want me to write?'

_Mary asks if John is all right. M_

_John says he is fine and asks the same. SH_

_She is fine too just misses John. M_

_Seriously? Hope we won't do this all night. SH_

_I don't know. Hope not. Mary asks if you will have a stripper. M_

_John says she shouldn't ask questions which she doesn't want to be answered. SH_

_Mary says we will have one. Hope he won't be too embarrassing. M_

_Harry organised the party so we will definitely have to suffer a stripper. SH_

_..._

_You won't believe it but our stripper is here. Guess what costume he wears. M_

_I don't do guesses. SH_

_Long black coat, blue scarf and deerstalker. It's hilarious. He wears a Sherlock Holmes costume. M_

Molly had been in love with Sherlock for years, since the day she saw him. She was dreaming about him. Romantic dinners, walks, proposal, marriage, kids, happiness. Or sometimes just absolutely hot, passionate sex.  
Then Sherlock was hiding in her flat almost for a year and they became like sister and brother. One day when Molly recognised that she was no longer infatuated in Sherlock she shared this information with him in the middle of a fight over the laundry. Really, it should not have been a big deal for a grown man to put his dirty socks into the laundry bag. When the relieving fact slipped out of her mouth, Sherlock cleared his throat, swallowed hard and murmured quietly 'Well, that's good.' After that day he had always put his socks into the laundry bag.  
And after that day Molly never shuttered in his presence.

_We are on our way. John wants to see him. Actually I think John wants to see me watching the stripper doing his job. SH_

_Mary offered him 30 pounds if he doesn't strip. Ahh, that's my luck...M_

_You want to see him? SH_

_I'd rather see the real one. Mo_

_I thought you are over me. SH_

_I am, but I still think you are hot. M_

_Sorry I am totally drunken by now, I think. M_

_Nice dress. Red suits you. SH_

'Oh, you are here!' Molly blushed and turned to face the tall detective who was standing right behind her and looked down at her with an amused smile. He wore white dressing shirt and the usual black trousers.  
'Thank God, we don't have to go on with that idiotic texting.' she continued watching John and Mary vanishing on the dance floor.  
'Let's sit down, we have to babysit those two' She sighed and walked towards the huge fluffy couch where the stripper was still waiting, perhaps to show his ... knowledge. Molly lumped down next to him and patted his knee with emphatic expression and said.  
'Sorry mate.'  
She crossed her legs and looked up at Sherlock who was wrinkling and hesitating to sit down or not.

He bent down to the poor stripper boy and said.  
'I give you another 30 if you go home.'  
The man looked up and with stunned face shouted.  
'Oh. My. God. You are him. Oh. My. God.' he was literally panting. 'I am a huge fan.'  
'Yes, I can see that. So?'  
'I can't go home yet. I have two more round tonight. You are quite popular recently.' he winked. Molly couldn't stand but giggling.  
'Sixty?'  
'But what about my reputation?!'  
'Ninety.' and with that Sherlock gave him some cash from his pocket. The stripper stood up and stepped towards Sherlock.  
'Just one more thing' he started with a shy smile 'are you shaving...there? Just want to be authentic, you know.' and he licked his upper lip looking Sherlock down from head to toe. Sherlock eyebrows arched to his forehead in surprise and said on a low,  
steady but tensed voice.  
'Go. Home.'  
The stripper started to walk towards the main door but before disappearing he turned to speak over his shoulders to Molly who was a laughing mass on the couch.  
'Told you he's not gay, sweetie. Have better luck than me!' and he sent a last wink towards Sherlock and disappeared. Sherlock sat down beside the chuckling Molly.  
'That was absurd, you know. Like a metaphor. Sherlock Holmes was flirting with himself. The only person who deserves his full attention.' Molly giggled.  
'I can't see what is funny.' Sherlock furrowed with piqued expression but then he couldn't stand but snorted. They were panting from laughing next to each other when Sherlock's phone buzzed and he read the message with a calming sigh.

_Don't come to Baker Street till morning. Please. JW_

Sherlock rolled his eyes a hissed through his teeth something what sounded like "fuckyoujohnwattson".  
'What?' asked Molly still breathing hard.  
'Apparently we are not needed here anymore and I better find a place to sleep. Our love birds ... well... occupied Baker Street.'  
Molly giggled.  
'We should have known they would step off. Come on. You can stay in my place since I still have the spare room and actually even your dressing gown is still there somewhere deep in the cupboard.'  
'You kept my dressing gown?'  
'Yes, one doesn't know when she has to hide a dead bloke.' Molly smiled warmly. Those days were not totally inconvenient. They got on unexpectedly well, except lying to best friends, avoid letting anybody into her flat, constantly being concerned about Sherlock's life when he was away, Molly would say it was fun.

Sherlock nodded and followed Molly up to the stairs.  
'Well, it is really not a coincidence that every book of common courtesies says that men shouldn't follow women up to stairs.' Sherlock noted under his breath looking at Molly's backside in her tight red dress in front of him with a wide grin.  
'What?' Molly turned back asking but she missed the next step, lost her balance and slipped backwards right into Sherlock's arms.  
'They definitely didn't count on drunken ladies.' He said with an amused smile placing Molly back onto her feet but now he stepped next to her and kept his right hand on her lower back to keep her safe.  
'Yeah, but shut up. I'm sure that they were definitely written for not drunken gentlemen.'  
'I am not drunk.' Sherlock responded huffily.  
'Ohho-ho, pleeease. You don't fool me. I know you better than this.' Molly giggled.  
'Well, maybe. A little.' He admitted with a grimace.

In the cab Molly was humming some summer hit previously played in the pub and was smiling looking out the window and watching the lights of late night London.

Sherlock was leaning back on his side of the seat, eyes closed, and was trying to detach his sober thoughts from his drunken ones. He failed. All his drunken thoughts were about Molly, which was not really surprising because since that fight when Molly told him that she was no longer in love with him blindly, his sober thoughts always found her when he was not on a case. It was a squeeze inside his stomach, an object in his throat knowing that now he was not the most important thing in her life. And the worst was that it was not because something new became the first on the list but he just simply lost his status. He really didn't like that feeling. One of his drunken - definitely a drunken one - thought said that he wanted to be the one and only again. He would do almost anything to hit the target. He half opened his eyes and watched Molly from the corner of his eyes. She was different now, she developed self-confident, she was still warm and caring, but she developed to wear a shell too. Her emotions weren't as opened anymore, she kept her real feelings from others, she built her own ebony tower and locked her heart in it. It was perfect and impregnable. Sherlock was wondering if he was the reason of that. He thought he was.

Molly saw Sherlock's face reflecting in the cab's window. She saw him stealing a glance at her too. She smiled and started humming again. Molly knew that the days when Sherlock could read her so easily were over. While they were living together she learned how to hide things from him, because she needed some privacy, at least in her head. Along that year she had to lie to everybody she cared, had to pretend grief, and had to pretend to be calm and sad, when she was nervous and harassed knowing Sherlock had gone out to fight his enemies and she had learnt how to wear her own mask. Molly smirked at the thought that sometimes even the great Sherlock Holmes didn't know what was in her head. And it made him nervous. Oh, yeah, he was very irritated in these moments. Her smile widened. Sometimes he even shuttered when they were alone in the lab or the morgue. That was amusing.

When the cab arrived at Molly's house they got out. Molly left Sherlock to pay while she walked to the main door and was searching for her keys in her impossibly big and deep purse. She gave up and leaned to the doorframe and waited for Sherlock.

Sherlock bent down to pay the driver when the cabbie said grinning towards Molly.  
'Nice catch, mate! You've got your lucky night.' he winked. Sherlock frowned and hissed through his teeth. 'Shut up.' The drivers grin faded away and drove off without another word.  
'C'mon, Sherlock, open it. I can't find my keys. I know you've kept yours.'  
'I am absolutely not surprised. This oversized bag is like a black hole.' he said ironically while was taking his keys and opened the door.

Molly kicked down her shoes and dropped her back onto the drawers in the anteroom. Walking into the kitchen she asked Sherlock.  
'Want something to drink? Whiskey, coffee, tea, wine, milk, water?'  
Sherlock took off his own shoes and coat, and flang down to the familiar couch and sighed.  
'I think coffee would be the wisest.'  
'Okay, then whiskey.' Said Molly cheerfully and took out two glasses. Sherlock snorted but didn't object.  
'Ahhh, my feet are killing me. I shouldn't dance too much in my new shoes.' Molly hissed as he sat down on the coach next to Sherlock and gave him his glass. They nipped in silence both were staring at the ceiling. Sherlock took a deep breath and a downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the small dark brown coffee table.  
'Give them to me.'  
'What?'  
'Your feet.' He held out his hands. Molly was surprised but couldn't resist to the promise of a good foot massage. She took her bare feet into Sherlock's lap without another word and leaned back on the couch resting her head on its soft arm. Her long light brown hair was hanging down almost reaching the floor and she took one forearm over her eyes to disbar the small light coming from the standing lamp behind the couch.  
Sherlock took one small foot in his hands and started to stroke it methodically with his long fingers. First the ankle than the soft arch than the tiny toes.  
'Oh God. If I had known that you are such good at this I would make you massage me in exchange for food every day when you lived here.'  
Sherlock swallowed hard but continued to run his hands on her soft foot applying light strokes combining with strong pressures. Molly groaned with content and sighed with relief.  
Sherlock continued working on her other foot with increasing heartbeat and blew out a long, shaking, silent sigh while was watching the small woman stretching under his fingers.

His stroking found its way on her instep then continued with small circles around her ankle and up to her calves. When he reached the silky back of her knees it was rather stroking than massaging and Molly was sure that this definitely wasn't part of any type of therapeutical massaging. She inhaled deeply however she didn't move just was waiting what was next. She wasn't really totally in love with him anymore, but the warm summer night and - let's be honest - the few drinks pulled out some feelings from her dig long ago. If you have loved somebody once, he will never be out of your system completely.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and was just abandoned himself to the sensation of the alcohol's beneficial effect on his inhibitions and Molly's soft, silky skin under his fingers. When he reached the hem of her skirt, he knew exactly what was going to happen and that there was no way back then, not that he wanted to back out at all.  
'I... uhm ... so ... ' Molly started on a dim voice but didn't dare to continue. He smiled at her stuttering but he didn't stop.  
'Whoa ... it's a little bit ... ambiguous...uhm ... massaging ... not my feet.' She stammered hoarsely but still had her forearm on her eyes. She felt Sherlock's hands stopping on her thigh but he didn't move away. Then after a moment Molly felt him rising a bit from his seat and as he removed his hands Molly felt sudden coldness and goose bumps on her thighs.  
'Than let me clear my intentions.' He unexpectedly whispered just right next to her ear. She froze. She didn't even have the courage to breath. Then she felt his warm breath closer to her cheek and finally she felt herself brave enough to move her arm away and to open her eyes. All she could see was Sherlock's deep, green eyes glancing in the waning light examining every detail of her face. When she felt his warm lips on hers she moaned in surprise. He pulled away quickly and cleared his throat.  
'I'm sorry.'  
But Molly was sitting up almost at the same time as he was pulling back, sat in his lap and before she pressed her lips to his, she whispered.  
'Don't be!'  
She didn't know where the nerve came from; probably it could be thanked for the last gulp of her whiskey or just the fact that Sherlock Holmes wanted her.  
The kiss was slow and clumsy at first but after a few minutes of practice and getting known each other, it grew into a faster and fiercer battle of lips, tongues and teeth. When they finally separated both panting, looking into each other's eyes, Sherlock broke the silence with his low, but husky voice.  
'I don't want to use your spare room tonight.'  
Molly's mouth curled up into a small, encouraging smile.  
'Nor do I want you to use it.'

**I love rewievs so if you liked it please let me know. If you don't, let me know anyway. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Thanks for reading the first chapter. I've just watched The Empty Hearse. I loved it and want to watch again about for thousand times. **

**Thanks for the reviews and support for ****MegHolmes, Renaissancebooklover108, Rocking the Redhead. I was really happy to read them. And I hope I won't disappoint you who decided to follow this story. **

**It was quite big challange for me to write this chapter and I've worked on it a lot. Hope you like it. And well, this is the chapter why I rated the story M. Enjoy. Hope you will.**

Sherlock and Molly stayed totally fouled and lost in each other on her coach to share more and more passionate kisses.

Molly couldn't resist the urge to run her fingers through his dark curly hair again and again while her other hand found the sharp edge of his collar bone and traced the line from his long throat to his angled shoulder under his shirt with her fingers.

She hadn't had a kiss so simple and primer for a long time. Since Jim, she had been just so afraid to trust anybody to let herself be honest and straightaway. But she knew this man and she knew that she would easily put even her life into his hands.

Sherlock's mind slowed down. There was only one thing reduces the speed of thoughts more than digest and that was happening to him right then. He could literally feel his blood moving down from his brain, but he didn't mind.

His mouth was exploring Molly's and his hands were searching for newer and newer places on Molly's precious body to discover. As she was sitting on his lap, her legs on each side of him, he stroked her silky tights up and down and more and more keenly he felt the urge to get more of her. With a shaking breath into her mouth he slipped his hands under her short dress pushing its hem higher around her waist and squeezed both her now almost bare cheeks of bum pulling her closer in his lap. Molly groaned in fever and pushed herself stronger to him, wanted to feel more of his body and started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Sherlock didn't hesitate and taking it as an encouraging sign, grabbed Molly's thighs strongly while she clasped her ankles behind his back and he lifted them from the couch to slowly walk towards her bedroom, still not breaking the kiss. When they reached the door Molly easily pushed down the handle and they literally fell into her room right down on her bed Sherlock above Molly, her legs still embracing his waist.

As he let his whole weight onto her, Molly felt him already hard against her hot centre and felt that they are separated by too many layers of clothes. Sherlock felt the same desire to minimize the distance between them and with one elegant move he stood up and pulled his half unbuttoned white shirt over his head uncovering his thin but wide chest and undid his belt with one fluent move and left his trousers fall, leaving only his boxers on.

Molly watched him stripping with raised eyebrows and a half grin. She had always imagined that Sherlock was an absolute leader in sex like in everything, but after his almost shy first kiss and that he didn't ripped off her dress of her immediately, but was peeling his own clothes off, making himself vulnerable first she was surprised, but totally content. Not that she wouldn't have been equally content with a demanding Sherlock in her bed. Or any kind of.

When Sherlock was standing only in his black boxers he reached for Molly's hands and pulled her to stand up and kissed her even more passionately than before while his hands found the zip on her back and pulled it down slowly. His kisses changed their place and now he was kissing down on her long neck, and with both hands he pushed down on her upper arms the low shoulders of her dress. As the red fabric lowered, he followed the newly uncovered soft skin with his mouth kissing and sucking it in a random pattern, causing sweet little surprises to Molly, and turning her on more and more. When she finally reached the edge of her patience, put her hands each side of Sherlock's face and slowly pulled him up to a hungry kiss then pushed him away gently.

If Sherlock hadn't been so curious, maybe he would took offense at that, but Molly soon showed him why she needed to keep some distance. With one hand she slowly pushed down the one side of her dress and then the other exposing her bare breasts. Sherlock sucked in a short but deep breath but didn't move. Molly smiled shyly and towards Sherlock, she stepped out of the dress just had reached the floor.

They were staring into each other's eyes for a moment, both reading from them the hunger for touching and tasting the other's skin. Molly reached out to touch Sherlock's chest and slowly stroked it with her fingertips till they arrived at the soft muscular place when his pectoral met his upper arm. She traced down on his side on the soft area down to his hips, following her moves with her eyes, causing him shiver running through his whole body.

When Molly had about enough of waiting for Sherlock to act, grabbing his hands she pulled them gently to her breasts. Sherlock growled from the unexpected hotness of her neat and soft apples, with already hard, nipples in the centre of them. Molly closed her eyes, moaned to his touch and pressed herself even more into his hands.

Sherlock thought this was an unambiguous sign to step up a level. He had very few experience in sex. To define numerically the number of him having sex was zero. Of course he had been curious, he saw films and pictures, during puberty he studied Kama Sutra and stored every single bit of it on his hard drive, but had never used them. Although he was a self confident, healthy, and grown up man, he had sexual desires of course and instincts suppressed for the sake of his brainwork, nothing was wrong with him. Be wasn't frightened just felt the usual excitement coming with trying something new. He had never met anybody who did really worth to give up his cold, logical opinion about sex until Molly.

Sherlock bent down to kiss Molly on her mouth, the soft spot under her ear, down her silky neck to the top of her sweet, curved breasts where his hands didn't cover them, causing her increasing pleasure and impatience to get him to the places where she wanted him.

While he was kissing and licking her skin, his thumbs were stroking over and over her tapering nipples, and as he lowered her head, his mouth found one of them and gently pressed his lips around it. Molly sucked a breath but didn't release it, she wanted more. Sherlock started to use his teeth first with small movements, but when he understood that this was still not enough, he grabbed the rose button between his teeth quite strongly and pulled his head back a bit. Now that made Molly sigh out the air shakily through her half opened lips. Sherlock smirked and drove this information home. He repeated this movement, calling the same reaction from her and when he changed to her other breast, he was more confident and his attention skipped to his own arousal caused by her responses, her noises. He wanted to hear more of them. He wanted to hear these long sighs, tiny squeaks, deep moans, sounds of her pleasure triggered by him forever.

Sherlock's mouth returned to hers, one arm around her waist, other on the back of her head and using his height, he pushed Molly gently to lie back on the bed and he climbed above her resting on one elbow each side of her head.

Molly put her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss lifting her upper body to press it against Sherlock's chest. She slipped one of her hands down his body, stroking his muscles on his back, following the path of his spine stopping now and then to run her fingers along his ribs. He was skinny but so well-set-up at the same time. Molly could feel his every muscle tensing and release under her fingers. Reaching his boxer's band she slid her hand under it without hesitation and squeezed his well formed butt. She felt his gasp into her own mouth to her action, and taking advantage of his surprise she enwreathed one of his legs with hers, and with a flourish she rolled them to get on top.

Molly was a shy girl, she had no self confidence, she wasn't thinking of herself as beautiful or attractive, but there was one advice given her by her best friend at uni, before her first night with her first serious boyfriend.

_When a guy wants to have sex with you, he really doesn't care about your bust size or from which angle your bum looks nicer. He only wants you to respond the pleasure he gives you, and to give him the same rapture. If you are given over to the passion, you win, he will never forget about you. _

Molly didn't know if this was a one night off or not, but she definitely wanted him to remember this night with her forever.

Sherlock was pretty impressed by her strength and agility, and he let himself to be lead by her. Her small but perfect breasts were lightly pushed to his chest and as she slid down kissing and biting his neck, his chest gently, he could feel her hardened nipples stroking his abdomen. His hands found her long nut-brown hair and he slipped his fingers into it, enjoying its compact softness as he felt his arousal getting beyond all bearings. Molly reached the sides of the bend of his boxers; she grabbed it and slowly pulled down tracing her movements with open mouthed kisses. Sherlock moaned to her slow teasing and lifted his hips to make her easier getting rid of his last piece of fabric.

She bent down and without hesitation embraced him with her fingers, and was stroking him up and down taking his tip into her warm and wet mouth. Sherlock was hard almost painfully, he wasn't sure if he was able to abide more of this overwhelming sensation. He reached down to put his hands each side of her cheeks and pulled Molly up to face him, and kissed her while she stretched upon him, pressing her small form to his wide torso, feeling his hard manhood between her legs pushing against her knickers.

Molly felt like teasing him a little more, so she started to move her hips with small slow moves against his groin, but he quickly stopped her by grabbing both her butt cheeks, breathing hard, trying to calm himself down. They stopped for a while, the word stood still for a moment and they were just listening the other's breathing, enjoying the moment when all their thoughts were washed away by the lust they felt for each other. Their eyes were closed and Molly's chin rested on Sherlock's chest, while he was stroking her backside with both hands.

When he felt himself ready to move, he rolled on his side taking Molly with himself and laid her down on her back. His one arm was resting under her neck, and with the other hand he gently took her chin, turned her head to face him, and gave a slow but wistful kiss. Sherlock's hand left her chin and caressed along her delicate neck, then the small alley between her breasts, then idled over rolling her dark rose nipples between his fingers, making Molly arching upwards and moaning loudly into his mouth. Then he stroked down her flat and soft belly with his fingertips until he reached her knickers. There he stopped, and under the flow of excitement he tried to gather all his knowledge of what should have been done.

Molly was waiting with unreleased breath, and as encouragement she lifted her hips, and with one hand started to push down Sherlock's hand hooked in the band of her knickers. Sherlock quickly got the message and helped her to peep out from the underwear. He sucked a deep breath to the vision of the beautiful, fragile creation lying complete naked beside him with all her trust and faith, she always had in him. His eyes were glittering, he was running his stare up and down her body and her serene face looking at him so opened. Her eyes were wide and deep dark, one could literally be lost in them staring too close. Her mouth, her kissable, playful mouth, her long messy hair spread on the bed around her head like a huge breeze made crown made him dizzy of desire.

He leaned to kiss her deeply trying to show her every bit of his affection, admiration and caring for her. Molly put one hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, with her other hand she lead his down to her centre and she sighed loud as she pushed his fingers between her folds. Sherlock was overwhelmed by the sensation. He had always thought that this kind of intimate touch would be somehow repelling, but now he caught himself feeling electricity running along his spine causing goose-flesh on his neck. It was delicate, warm and wet and inviting, he wanted to explore it with all his senses.

First he used his fingers stroking gently from her sensitive spot down to her entrance. Molly arched to his long desired touch, she could barely breath, and she needed more of him. As he would read in her thoughts he applied strength in his moves and made small circles around her clit while was watching her face, searching her expressions, listening to her sounds. She decided not to hold in, and let out every small groaned and sigh. When he couldn't wait any longer to taste her, he quickly kissed down his way to where his hand was earlier, he spread her legs to have a better access and licked her wet centre clumsily like he would taste an ice cream.

Tasting her was like a bomb into an already burning fire. His brain went blank and there was nothing real in the word just her. Her scent, her taste, her hot skin under his caress. He wanted to touch her everywhere at the same time. He buried his face between her thighs and sucked and licked her furiously, until she quivered in her climax and gasped his hair and pulled his head up with both her hands to her face, to kiss him wildly.

Sherlock was on his knees and elbows above Molly, whose legs were somehow embracing him, exactly in the right position, but he was waiting for her to guide him in. When their lips separated they were both panting hard, not only from the lack of air, but the intolerable urge to be connected, Molly reached down and placed his tip exactly to her entrance, and with a burnt by her legs on his lower back she slightly pushed his length in. Molly lifted her hips to have him in deeper and gasped shakily as he moved forward.

Sherlock had never felt something so compelling, he had quite a lot experiences of the mind-blowing effects of drugs, but this was far beyond everything he had ever tried. He used drugs to distract himself from the fact that he had been so alone, so alien and strange among so many people. And it worked. For a few hours while he wasn't really aware of even his own existence.

Now he wasn't alone, there was somebody else too, another creature, perfectly matching, who trusted him, knew him and yet accepted and maybe loved him. She was just for him in that moment and he was just for her. Nothing else existed. His body was burning for continue to get release in her, with her.

He slowly started to move pulling out himself just to feel the joy of being made one again. Molly moaned loudly and stroked down his chest gently with her nails, down his side to grab his butt, and with pushing up her hips helped to find him the rhythm she wanted him to catch. Sherlock thrusted her slowly enjoying every move, and soon he recognised that he became faster and faster and almost felt impossible to stop himself, when he looked into Molly's eyes and broke off pushing and frowned, closed his eyes tightly to concentrate to calm down. He rested down on Molly and breathed hard against her neck behind her ear when her silken hair begun.

Molly slowly caressed his hair but didn't make any other move. She knew what he was waiting for; he didn't want to leave her alone. She really appreciated it and smiled into his black curls. It amazed her how this usually selfish, egoistic man was so attentive and devoted in bed.

Sherlock kissed along her jaw reaching her mouth as he felt himself ready to go on, and shifted a bit to have the place to move. He was more self concerned now, he trusted himself to be able to control his own body. As he thrusted slowly again, he bent down to give some attention to her hard, rosy nipples with his tongue and lips, he heard her moaning loud and felt her grip in his hair tighten.

He knew he did this right, and when he reached down to give her extra pleasure by pushing her button, her wheezing became faster and louder. He increased the pace and pushed harder and she screamed out loud right before he reached his own climax and with a few slow and hard thrusts came inside her.

His vision went blank and white everything was silent for a moment. Then he heard his own and Molly's heavy breathing and opened his eyes to see her contently smiling at him and feel her fingertips stroking his back up and down. He gave her an exhausted smile and slipped his arms under her to roll them to get below and embraced her to his chest. He could simply roll off of her but he didn't want to lose this intense contact so soon.

As he heard Molly's slow breathing, he felt even more relaxed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time for ages.

**Thanks for reading. I would really appreciate every kind of review, really. **

**Happy New Year for everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the long break, but I was distracted by the new series, by reading fantastic new fics, and also by a lot of work, but who cares about it when there are new Sherlock episodes. Hope you will like this chapter. I took into this one some minor things from the HLV, but I wouldn't really call them spoilers. I hesitated to break it into two to have a cliffhanger, but finally I didn't. Hope you don't mind it.**

As the sun reached the top of the opposite building, a beam slowly found the tiny gap between the two dark brown blackout curtains, and appeared on the sleeping face of Molly. She frowned and groaned against the sudden light, and tuned her face to the opposite direction. She slowly felt to filter the ache into her head and thought that going back to sleep would be more beneficial than to face the hangover being aftermath last night. Mary's hen night. Yeah, that was fun. The stripper. And a lot's of drinks. And, oh God, Sherlock! Molly slowly opened one of her eyes, and then the other to see the peacefully sleeping face of the world's only consulting detective. He was gorgeous. And sweet, sleeping like a baby. A dark mop of hair curled on his forehead, his Cupid's bow shaped mouth was slightly open and his wide bare chest was rising in an equable rhythm. Molly smiled for herself and stretched when her eyes caught the alarm clock on the night stand on Sherlock's side.

...

'Oh, no, oh, my God, no!' Molly's hissing whisper woke Sherlock, but when he opened his eyes the only thing he could see was Molly's backside disappearing behind the bathroom door. He lifted his head to see if she came back, but the mordant pain in the back of his head made him fall back immediately. That was the good old hangover he hadn't had for a long time. Last night's memory's flashed back suddenly and he understood Molly's disappearance instantly. She must have been more drunk than he thought, and had not been the controller of her own actions, panicked when she woke up, regretted spending the night with him, and disappeared in the bathroom to hide until he left. Obvious.

He closed his eyes and sucked a deep breath. He had never felt so humiliated in his entire life. Damned sentiment. He fell into this trap at last. He shattered and jarred his messy hair. He got out of the bed quickly like a cat, searched for his clothes, and got dressed. Stepping out of the room he headed to the kitchen, opened the cabinet and took out two aspirins. He swallowed one of them then stopped for a moment frowned, and put the other on the table with a glass of water. After that he grabbed his coat and stormed out of Molly's flat.

...

Molly was having shower as quickly as she could. She was in panic because she had to be at Mary's place at 11 and it was already half past 10. The ceremony was going to start at 2pm but Molly promised to help her prepare for the wedding, not that she was good at doing make up or hair, but at least she could give inward support. She let sleep Sherlock while she was using the bathroom, she knew that Sherlock had to appear only at quarter to 2 at the church. When she got dressed in the long pigeon grey dress which was hanging in the bathroom for two days to be ready for the big day, and entered her bedroom to wake up Sherlock, she saw an empty bed and that his clothes were gone. Molly run out of the bedroom to check the living room and then the kitchen. He was gone without a word. She should have known it sooner. When she went to the kitchen table and flopped down on the chair next to it, she saw the glass of water and the aspirin on the table through her growing tears.

'How cynical. Shit.' She muttered under her breath and with a quick move she grabbed the glass and pecked it at the wall shouting without enunciation. When she got out of air she buried her face into her hands and was sobbing for long minutes. Molly finally could stop crying and tried to calm herself down. Still panting she took the aspirin in her palm while her headache got worse because of crying; she took it and gulped it following it with a few sip of water from the tap.

'God damn, he is right, he is always right.' she sighed massaging her temple.

She went back to the bathroom to fix her totally messed up makeup and was really trying to avoid looking into her own eyes in the mirror. She felt miserable. She had been in love for this idiot for years, and when she thought she was over him, he decides to play his pitiful game and ruin her totally.

'How I hate him!' She shouted wincing.

'No, I don't.' She whispered in a hardly audible voice and almost started to cry again but managed to stop herself and rushed out of the flat.

...

Sherlock had chosen to walk home from Molly's. He hoped to have his head get clearer from the walk, but it was summer and it seemed all people in London chose to walk on exactly the same streets as Sherlock. The crowd annoyed him ineffably and when he arrived at the flat he was in a mood. He entered the black door and taking the steps by two, run up to meet the slightly nervous John, who was constantly trying to knit his necktie without any success.

"Thank God you are here. Would you help me with... .'

'No.' Sherlock cut him off and a moment later he disappeared behind the door of his bedroom.

'What the hell?' John whispered. 'No, I calm down and won't let myself getting annoyed by this dick on the best day of my life.' John took ten deep breaths as his therapist taught him and walked with straight back into the kitchen to make a tea.

An hour later Sherlock still hadn't picked out his nose from his room and John started to concern. He knocked on his door but received no answer. He tried again with the same result. After then he quickly opened the door expecting to see his friend's lifeless body with a syringe his arm or something like that. He was concerned about him because since his return Sherlock seemed lonely and confused how to handle this new situation. But as he entered the room all he could see was Sherlock in his yesterday clothes lying on his bed in his thinking position frowning towards him. John cleared his throat.

'You'll be there in time then?'

'Yeees.' Sherlock answered rolling his eyes. John hesitated a bit and swallowed his next question. Closed the door and rushed out of the flat to check if everything was all right at the place of the ceremony.

...

Molly arrived at Mary's ten minutes late, but considering the circumstances she was really pleased with herself.

Mary opened the door immediately after her knocking smiling widely till she saw Molly's fake cheery expression.

'Hello, you happy bride!' Said Molly in a little bit too loud voice. Her cheeks and eyes were still red of crying.

'Yeah, our bride is quite happy not like you. '

'Is it really that obvious?' Sighed Molly sadly.

'You're the worst liar I've ever met. Well right after John.'

'No, I'm not, I've really developed.' Molly stepped in as Mary stood clear from the doorway.

'Yeah, I almost forgot that you had the best teacher.'

Molly winced to the mention of Sherlock.

'Ooh, that bastard. What had he done again? I thought that we are over the times when you are sobbing because of him.'

'Yeah, me too.' But Molly wasn't able to push back another wave of tears anymore and buried her face into her hands.

'What happened, I'll kill him.'

'Oh no, you really shouldn't bother, it's your wedding day, I will handle this situation.' Sniffled Molly with a fake smile.

'Okay, I won't be upset, I promise, but then you have to stop looking with your brown doe eyes like a lost puppy...okay you've failed... or you are telling me what happened.'

Molly took a deep breath and frowned looking down on her fidgeting hands.

'After you left the bar, and John texted him to avoid Baker Street for the night, Sherlock spent the night at my place.' Molly gulped and shifted her look.

'Well, that's not a big deal; he practically lived with you for a year.' But Mary was cut off by Molly's eye rolling.

'Ooooh, did he...? Did you...?' Mary's jaw was on the floor. She knew from John that Sherlock had never had anybody since they lived together, and John suspected that it wasn't different before.

Molly nodded and tried to stop her tears again.

'Was he careless or brutal?'

'No...NO! He was really nice.' Molly now was absolutely lost calling back the memory of the night. 'He was gentle and caring and devoted. And I even would say shy, but he bloody left without a word in the morning.'

'Ahhaa.' Mary lifted her eyebrows knowingly but didn't say any other word.

'What?'

'Nothing. I promised to shut up about this topic.' Marry wasn't intend to share her information with Molly about Sherlock's non existing love life. At least not yet. First she wanted to speak with John.

...

John was standing at the entrance of the small church and was nervously fidgeting while trying to smile nicely at everybody who had arrived. He failed, but all the guests thought that it was simply wedding nerve, but no. Sherlock would have been there for bloody nine whole minutes with the rings.

When Sherlock finally was walking towards him with motionless face three minutes before the start, John hissed at him between two greetings. 'Where the bloody hell were you?'

'Khmm.' Sherlock cleared his throat. 'Sorry for the late.' he said but didn't look into John's eyes.

'Ok, never mind.' John sighed and straightened his suit. 'Rings?'

'Here.' and Sherlock groped his upper pocket.

'Thank God.'

...

'Calm down, Mary. John is the best man I've ever known. You will be very happy with him forever.' Molly tried to calm down his friend.

'Oh, I know, I know. I'm just nervous, you know, if I am pretty enough, and if everything will go well at the nuptial. And things like that.'

'You are gorgeous and it will be all right, now go.'

'Molly, you are the best.' Mary nervously run her fingers on her hair not looking into Molly's eyes. 'Listen, sorry again that not you are the maid of honour. My meddler mother promised my cousin that she will be. I hate my mother sometimes.'

'Well at the moment I really don't mind that I don't have to dance with...you know who.' Molly sighed sadly but then shuddered, smirked at Mary and giving her a small peck on the cheek she pushed her through the door. 'Now go!'

The ceremony was wonderful; John and Mary seemed really happy and were fond of each other. Sherlock's best man speech was extreme, but quite moving.

Molly was sitting next to Greg during the whole dinner, who was happy to have female company and they were chatting about work not having any other mutual. Greg seemed quite lonely and lost since his boisterous divorce so when he asked her if she sometimes free to drink something, Molly stole a glance at Sherlock and his companion and said 'That would be nice, thanks.' Sherlock was sitting next to that Janine, and seemed to enjoy himself very much. They were whispering into each other's ears constantly. Molly was desperate but tried to enjoy herself with Greg.

During Sherlock was playing the waltz he composed for the newlyweds, Molly simply wasn't able look at anywhere else but him. He was so gorgeous and aristocratic and very out of her league. There was that same old feeling again. What the hell would a man like him want from her? When Sherlock threw his bow to Janine, who was standing right next to Molly she was completely crushed and wasn't able to hold back sobbing anymore. Tears were rolling down on her cheeks while she passed through the guests but almost nobody noticed.

'What the hell did you do to her again?' John asked Sherlock as they were standing watching the dancing guests.

'Shouldn't you be dancing with your wife or something?' Sherlock waved his hand.

'Well I would be, if my wife wasn't comforting Molly Hopper in the hallway at this moment.'

Sherlock didn't say a word. One of the rare occasions, thought John.

'Now, go to her and apologise.'

'Nope.' the answer popped out from Sherlock's mouth. John looked at him with furrowed brows. 'Sherlock!'

'Yees?'

'Where did you spend last night?'

'Nowhere.'

''You were at Molly's flat, weren't you?' Sherlock gave no answer but cleared his throat and looked down to his shoes.

'What did happen?'

'Nothing.' Sherlock snapped at John.

'Aaaahhhaaaa. Nothing. Nothing nothing?'

'Well...' Sherlock started fidgeting with his tie, apparently it became too tight. 'One or two things...maybe.'

'And then?'

'I left.'

'Let me guess, without a word.'

'Well, right after she locked herself into her bathroom hissing "Oh my God, no!", yes, without a word.' And as Sherlock played the whole scene again in his head everything became clear. The clock on the bedside table on his side, Molly's promise to be there in time at Mary's to help her.

'So stupid, so stupid.' He murmured under his breath, and quickly left John standing in the corner of the ballroom with a sheepish smirk on his face.

In the hallway Sherlock easily found the sobbing Molly with Mary whispering comforting words. Before he stepped into their sight he stopped and was listening.

'I really thought, I was over him ... Over this whole thing... Apparently I am not. I am an idiot. I've been in love with him for years and he doesn't give a shit. Why did he do this to me? It was so cruel, so cruel.' Molly stopped to wipe her tears, blow her nose and Sherlock could hear Mary's hushing voice. 'And now he was flirting with your cousin during the whole day, just to show me what? That I am so worthless, that after this night he can easily pick up with somebody else?' Sherlock winced hearing that, this was not the truth at all.

He stepped forward and said in a low, husky voice.

'Mary, I think your husband wants to dance with you.'

Mary stood up while Molly looked up from behind her tears and released a deep sobbing sigh.

Mary turned to head to the ballroom but while she was passing Sherlock she whispered to him hardy audible.

'Don't screw this up.'

'I won't.' Sherlock formed the words dumbly rolling his eyes.

When the bride's white dress disappeared behind the corner, Sherlock sat down next to Molly and leaned back to the wall. He started to speak silently in his calm, low voice looking up the ceiling.

'I presume this is the situation when it's said we need to have a talk.' Molly silently nodded.

'First of all I wasn't flirting with Janine, I deduced to her every man she asked me to. She is quite committed to find a husband. Now she's dancing with that geek with the glasses.' Now he turned to Molly and touched her hand to make her look at him. 'Molly, I would never forget last night, and I would never belittle you. What happened last night it was ... quite significant to me. I've never let anybody to see this side of me.' Molly opened her mouth with big surprised eyes but Sherlock cut her off. 'Please let me finish.' She closed her lips then nodded. 'This morning I woke up to your voice. You whispered 'Oh, no, oh my God, no., or something like that. Although I am lack of experience in this field but these words were not the ones, a content and satisfied woman supposed to say after the first night spent together.' Sherlock looked at Molly lifting his eyebrows questioningly. Molly was stunned and burst into tears again and stammered.

'I... uh ... I am so sorry. I was an idiot. Ohh, God.' Molly sent a week smile to him.

'I am sorry, too, leaving you without ... you know. Before I came here to you, John asked me what I did to you and thinking over the morning I figured out what had happened.' They looked at each other for a long minute when Sherlock's mouth formed a small smile.

'Maybe next time you should wake me up with a simple good morning.' He leaned and looked into Molly's eyes so close. 'Or.' He closed the distance and their lips met in a long soft, loving kiss. When they separated, their hands were embracing the other. 'With a kiss.' Sherlock accomplished the sentence.

'So you want next time?' asked Molly teasingly playing with his tie.

'Momentarily there's nothing I want more.' His beautiful low voice caused shiver down her spine. He leaned to kiss her with more passion and fire this time.

'Where the hell are those two idiots?' asked John when he spinned around his wife who had just arrived to the ballroom.

'Well, last time I checked they were snogging on the floor behind the cloakroom.'

'Hmm...Good job, Mrs Watson.' John smirked widely.

'Thank you, Mr Watson. To tell the truth I kind of proud of myself too.' Mary laughed and gave a sweet kiss to his husband.

**Thanks for reading. Please review, I would be very happy to read your opinions and critics, not only the good ones but any kind. Well I am obviously, happier when I read nice things. **

**This is not the last chapter, I plan to continue, the next is already done, so I hope you will stay with me. Bye.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dear Readers, thanks for your support through the first part of this story. Sorry for the huge gap between the updates. I will try my best to bring you the next chapters sooner. **

**Again, my first language is not English, so sorry for the mistakes or the poor vocabulary. Despite everything hope you will enjoy.**

**Part 2**

**Two years later**

It was a cold November Sunday evening when the black city cab stopped in front of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes got out elegantly with his small suitcase and with straight back bent down to pay the driver.  
He and John were away in Cardiff the last four days to help the local DI in a semi-interesting case. The said inspector was Lastrade's classmate back then in collage and he asked Sherlock and John a favour to help him out. The decision was made easier when Lastrade ensured them that there wasn't any interesting murder case in London for the consulting detective currently. The one in Cardiff was at least an eight so it was not too inconvenient.

As he stepped in front of the black front door he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath through his nose. Something was wrong but he didn't know exactly what to be prepared for.

When the case was solved Sherlock texted Molly as usual about it and he expected her usual answer.

_You are brilliant. Come home quickly. Love you. xxx your Molly_

Or something very similar.  
Instead of that, now her answer was:

_Ok. Have a nice trip back. M_

She wasn't unkind, but even Sherlock could sense the difference.

He stepped in the front door, climbed the stairs with long paces and opened the door of their flat. In the hallway he immediately noted that there was only one pair of shoes of Molly's instead of her usual three or four pairs. There was hanging only one coat of hers. He already knew the painful reason of her cold text and the lack of her accessories in the hallway, but mentally he begged to be wrong.  
Of course he had known from the beginning that the day would come when she would fed up with him or she would just recognise the fact that he was far less than what she deserved. The moment when he finally decided to let his feelings towards Molly Hooper rule his head, his body and all of his reasonable thoughts; he knew that one day she would be the one, who would decide to move on.

"

They had been together for two months when Sherlock asked Molly to move in with him. When she asked why, he could only manage to say that it was practical, because they hadn't spent a night without the other, since they got together. Obviously that wasn't the answer Molly wanted to hear, because she got out of the bed, got dressed and left Baker Street in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Sherlock spent the rest of the night thinking through what he did or said wrong and finally he got the knack of Molly's behaviour. She wanted to hear the sentimental reasons. He should have known it previously. He took a shower got dressed and exited the flat just in time to reach Molly's house at half past six, when she usually got up to get ready for work. As he reached to push the bell Molly just tore open the main door and came up against his chest.

'Sherlock!' Molly shrieked in surprise. Her hands were on his chest and somehow his on her hips.  
'I am...' Molly started but Sherlock cut her off.  
'Molly, listen!' Molly swallowed hard and looked deep into his eyes with her big brown eyes. The early morning traffic started to get louder as they stood in front of the house. Sherlock continued.  
'I am sorry. I know I expressed myself in a wrong way. I am really not good in these things. I want you to move in with me because I want to wake up next to you every morning, I want you to be there around me when I am thinking, and I want to come home to you after a case. And yes, besides these that would be logical as well but it's not the main reason. I hope that is clear from my actions but please, please Molly, don't expect me to express my emotions in words. It's really far from me.'  
Molly's eyes were shining from the unreleased tears.  
'I'm sorry too. I bore myself awfully. I know exactly who you are and I love you for being yourself. I am completely content the way we are. And yes I would be glad to move in.' She smiled and lifted on her toes to kiss Sherlock.  
Five days later all of Molly's belongings were at Baker Street.

"

Sherlock entered the living room to see Molly sitting in his armchair, her hands in her lap, incredibly big purse on the floor next to the chair. He wanted to store this sight, wanted to burn it into his mind.  
He took down his case without looking away from Molly, but didn't move from the door. He was waiting tensely for her to make a move. She stood up, took her bag on her shoulder and took a few steps towards him. When she was only an arm length from Sherlock she nervously straightened herself and looked into his eyes.

'I assume you already know what I am going to say. But still, I have to say it.' she stopped and her eyes flicked to the large patterned wallpaper next to him. She forced herself to look back at him. His reaction was nothing, his face was motionless a little bit paler than usual probably because of the tiring last days. Molly continued.  
'You have to know that I ... I love you and ...' her heart sank and her voice became hoarse. 'And I will never regret these two years with you, but I have to move on. I know I said that I don't need marriage and children to be happy with you but it turned out I was wrong. I really want a family, I couldn't think about anything else in the last six month. I know you don't want these things and I don't want to force you into anything.' Molly swallowed hard and tough that the next sentence would be the most painful sentence in her entire life.

'I've met somebody who wants the same.' She did it, she thought. Sherlock's only reaction was furrowing his bows for that last piece of information but neither he moved nor said a word. It was time for Molly to say goodbye.

'We can be friends again after some time, I think, I hope. For now it would be better not to keep in touch. For a while.' she sighed and stroked back a mop of hair behind her ear and that was it. That was the moment when Sherlock couldn't bear to see her leaving, to see her making this familiar movement which was so Molly. His Molly. No. Not anymore. Sherlock took his eyes off Molly and strode away into their ... no, his bedroom and shut the door.

Molly took a shaking breath, looked around her former home. Tears started to roll down her cheeks but she had already made her decision so she slipped into her small shoes, took on her coat and shout the door behind her.

Sherlock stood straight then leaned back to the door with a painful sigh. He looked around the bedroom. Every belongings of Molly disappeared. There was none of her books on the bedside table, no dress hanging on the door of the cupboard, no fluffy blanked on the armchair. She even changed the duvets before leaving. It was almost like she had never been there, they had never made love in that bed, they had never fought over who did have more clothes and never ended an argument with cuddling and kissing each other.  
He couldn't bear to stay in that room anymore. When he heard closing the front door he exited and wasn't intending to return soon.

...

John opened the door of their suburban family house they managed to by with Mary a year ago. He had a pretty big bunch of keys since he kept those to Baker Street, and now had a part time job as a family doctor when he wasn't on a case with Sherlock. His friend had became quite bearable and less rhapsodical since he lived with Molly. John was happy to know that after he married to Mary Sherlock wasn't left alone. Moreover he finally recognised that the best thing could happened to him was the sweet pathologist.

When John stepped inside Mary greeted him with a cheerful hello and the one and a half year old Julie ran towards him with opened arms. 'Daddy home!' she shouted happily. John picked her up and settled her on his hip giving her small pecks making her giggle. 'How is my little angel?' And they walked into the kitchen where Mary had just finished cooking.

During dinner Mary was usually bubbling about their day with Julie, about her progression, the games they played, the gossips from the playground, but this time she was silent. John took down his fork and sighed.

'Okay, what's the matter?'Mary lifted her eyes to John and cleared her throat.

'Well I suppose now I can tell you. Molly moved out from Baker Street.'John was stunned.

'What? When?' John shifted a bit in his seat.

'Today.'

'Since wh1en have you known about it, Mary?' John raised his voice, although he was totally aware of that this wasn't Mary's fault. She must have been in a very difficult position in the last few weeks. She really was a friend for both Sherlock and Molly.

'For a couple of weeks. I promised not to tell anyone. I'm so sorry.'

'This will totally break him.' John buried his face into his palms for a moment. When he looked up at his wife he whispered. 'I have to go.'

'I know, I know.' Mary nodded with guilt. John stood up, gave a small peck to his wife and daughter and grabbing his coat stormed out from the house.

**This second part is maybe a bit more dramatic, but still romantic. Well not this chapter, but later... I promise. Feel free to review. I will be really grateful for any feedback. Thanks. Have a good day. (: Lanceletta**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi, everyone Thanks for all the reviews, favs and follows. I was surprised that the last chapter created so intensive emotions in few of you. But well, I think it's not a bad thing at all. It may be upset you a little bit, but hope this one will calm down the nerves. **

**Piper, trust me; I want them to be together as well. And I am the writer, at least of this story.**

**Enjoy.**

As John opened the door of 221B, he took the steps quickly but with heavy heart. He expected a totally fallen apart Sherlock playing on his violin or just simply laying on the couch sulkily, but when he stepped into the flat he found his friend sitting at the kitchen table, fidgeting with his microscope. He was showered, his clothes were fresh and clean, his moves were calm and silent.

'Khm' he cleared his throat. 'Hello, Sherlock.' John was standing there trying to catch his breath and to close his mouth. Sherlock eyes were still locked on the microscope and his voice was steady and somehow...kind.

'Hello, John. Didn't expect to see you so soon. How are Mary and Julie? Would you please give my love to them?' Sherlock looked at John with a genuine smile. 'How was the dinner, I know Mary is an excellent cook.' John couldn't really come to his senses from the first nice chatty sentence Sherlock already surprised him with another. He furrowed and hesitatingly paced towards Sherlock, not taking his eyes off of him examining his features, while his friend was watching him almost amused with a small grin. He was too composed, too collected. John expected a stubbornly peevish, broken hearted man instead of this calm ignorant mask. Then suddenly it hit John almost like a punch in his face.  
'You were using again, weren't you?'  
'No, John, I am perfectly sober, you can check if you want. I merely smoked one cig.' Sherlock dropped his smile, stood up and walked into the living room to sit down in his armchair. 'Now, out with it, John.'  
'Out with what?' John was still standing in the kitchen staring after his best friend with a confused expression.  
'You obviously are here to comfort me, although I don't need it, but if it makes you feel better, please don't hold it back.' Sherlock indolently waved his hand towards John's armchair' which used to be Molly's in the last two years. Sherlock winced at the thought but it remained unnoticed by John, who slowly took off his coat and sat down clearing his throat.

'Well ... khm...How are you, then?' John didn't lean back, set on the edge of his seat, he felt very tense no knowing what to expect from his best friend.  
'Well, the only woman who I ever felt something towards left me without any previous warning today. Beyond that I am perfectly fine. It was predictable anyway.' Sherlock faked that genuine wide smile again turning to face John and added. 'Oh, and this.' With that he took his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small deep purple box and threw it to John. He opened it to find a beautiful small silver ring with a white crystal on it. John swallowed hard closing the small box; he had never thought that his friend would ever want to be married. Sherlock always said marriage was false and specious and irrational. After a few minutes in silence, John cleared his throat.  
'What did she say?' He still couldn't believe the whole thing, that Molly, who had been totally in love with Sherlock for years, just left like that. For a moment Sherlock looked like he was in his mind place but he slowly answered.  
'She said that she wanted marriage and family and she knew that I was not that type.'  
'Well that's hardly surprising. You've advertised your opinion about these things every occasion popped up.'  
'Yes, that's correct.'  
So why did you buy this now?'  
'I've bought this three month ago, John.' He sighed. 'Well, I've changed my mind apparently.'  
'Really?' John couldn't say anything else just stared at his friend his jaw on the floor. Sherlock frowned in confusion.  
'What?' John took a deep shaking breath.  
'You just simply forget to apprise her of this, didn't you? Don't you people talk to each other? Does she know about this? Why didn't you proposed to her already?' Sherlock shrugged and refused to look in his friend's eyes.  
'It doesn't matter anymore, she has somebody else. Certainly a nice, normal guy with dog and happy family, lots of friends, fix job, serious intentions.'  
'What? Molly? How?'  
'She said that ...' Sherlock gulped, 'she had found somebody, who wanted the same.'  
'I...I simply can't believe this of Molly.' John was stunned. She would never be able to do that to you.'  
'She just did what I asked her to.' Sherlock murmured under his breath. 

Sherlock and Molly had been together for a few months when one night Molly woke up to Sherlock's strong grip on her wrist and his hard wheezing. She turned to face him and saw him wincing with closed eyes. Molly gently freed her wrist and caressed his face hushing and whispering.  
'Sherlock, wake up; it's only a dream, hush love. Sherlock, open your eyes, it's me, I am here.' She kissed his cheek, then his lips.  
Sherlock's eyes shut open and Molly saw in them fear then as he focused on her she could see relief. He turned his head to bury his face into her neck and as his breathing smoothed, he whispered her name.  
'Molly, my Molly.' He sighed. 'Promise me something.' Molly nodded and run her fingers through his hair. 'When you leave me, '  
'Sherlock, don't...'  
'Please let me finish. When you leave me, please leave me for somebody better than me. For somebody who deserves you more than me, who can make you happier than I will ever be able to. Don't leave me because I am not enough. Don't leave me because you are fed up with me. Leave me to have a better life. Please forgive me when I don't treat you as I should. Please forgive me being like that. But don't chose being alone because it's better than being with me. I couldn't bear the thought that I am so fucked up, that even being alone is better than being with me. Promise me, Molly.' Molly couldn't hold back her tears and they silently run down from the corner of her eyes till they hit the pillow next to her ears. She swallowed hard but couldn't say a word.  
'Promise me.' He breathed out hardly audible into her neck.  
'Please, Sherlock!' She sobbed.  
'Promise me, I beg you. Promise me. I would break into pieces if you would just get fed up with me, and leave me, because I am worse than nothing... Please.' He broke in his voice. She had never seen him so miserable, so vulnerable. She would do anything to make him feel better.  
'Oh, Sherlock, don't...I would never...'  
'Please do that for me!' Sherlock demanded. Molly shakily sighed and turned to face Sherlock.  
'I...I promise. Just calm down.' She kissed him strongly, tracing down his cheeks with her fingers down to his collarbone then she pulled herself closer to him and embraced him as strong as she could all the rest of the night.

"

'What?' You asked her to cheat on you or what?' John got used to his friend's strange and weird things but this seemed a little bit too much for him to take. Sherlock sighed deeply and stood up.  
'Now, John, your family must be waiting for you. I'll be fine, I promise. We'll meet tomorrow.'  
John understood that he had been practically thrown out, and with heavy steps walked towards the door but looked back at his friend suspiciously.  
'Just one thing, Sherlock.' John gulped and raised one hand to shut him up. 'You are the world's only consulting detective, you can tell about anybody if they stepped on an ant the day before from the angle of their tie. And since I am pretty sure that there is no other guy - because I know Molly - you should think about that why you didn't saw the signs of cheating. And the answer is that because there was nothing to see.' John turned to leave but stepped back. 'Oh and after that, get that bloody ring, find her and tell that you want to spend your life with her and want a half dozen of children.'  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to grab his violin.  
'Goodbye John.' He said simply in his low husky voice.  
John sighed and silently prayed to anybody who could hear and he really hoped that he gave a good advice to Sherlock. He trusted Molly, and knew her all too well, but people change, perhaps he was wrong. With this bitter thought he returned home to his beloved wife and daughter. 

Molly curled up on the sofa in Christine's flat in Brighton drinking her morning tea. Christine, Molly's younger sister was already at work. Molly felt miserable, although she hadn't expected anything else, sleeping an hour all in all after the day before she had made the hardest decision of her life, she felt sick. She did everything so quickly, avoiding confrontation, it was like a clean cut in a cadaver. Molly knew what she wanted. She wanted Sherlock but she also wanted to have family, and these two things couldn't go together. Sherlock had expressed his revulsion about having children more than enough time. She had to decide. If she stayed with him she slowly would get hate him to deprive her of having a baby? This feeling was so strong in her. 

"  
Julie Watson was a beautiful newborn baby. Her tiny hands and her perfect face melted Molly's heart. It was love at first sight. Molly and Sherlock had visited Mary and the baby in the hospital on the second day. In the cab towards Baker Street they were silent both deep in their thoughts. In the hospital everybody was cheery but as they stepped out on the door their mood dropped.

Molly turned her head from the window to face Sherlock, who saw her move from the corner of his eye and turned too.  
'Do you want children?' The question popped out from her mouth all of a sudden. Sherlock's jaw clenched.  
'No.' He answered simply and turned to face to the window again refusing to give further explanation. How could he tell her that his biggest fear of his life that he couldn't give love and caring to his own child? What monster would she think he was? He knew that he was somehow damaged; he had only a few people in his life who he loved. And it took years to recognise it and learn to live with it. It was always great enforcement to be patient and kind to them when he was in a bad mood. It was difficult to not snap at them each time when they couldn't keep step with his mind and it was frequent. What kind of father would he be? And what if the child inherited his mental disorder? So he was able only to burst out that simply 'No.'  
Molly turned to look out through the window, but didn't see anything from the tears festering in her eyes. She tried to say herself that she wasn't surprised, but somehow deep inside she had always hoped that Sherlock would like to have a family too. Now it was clear that he didn't. Molly convinced herself that she loved him enough to be able to give up her dream having a big family with happy children with dark curly hair and turned up nose. She loved him and he loved her back and it was enough for her. She slipped closer to Sherlock in the cab and took her hand onto his thigh and pushed her forehead against his shoulder with a sad smile. He squeezed her hand but didn't turn to face her. 

"

Molly could have entrapped him by stopping to take her pills, or blackmail him to be reconciled of having at least one baby but she knew that he would hate her for doing either. She chose to leave him, and as she had promised that painful night, for somebody better or at least she had said that. She was still painfully in love with him; perhaps it would take years to be able to look at another man, if that time would ever come.

After sobbing over her tea for another hour, she decided to take a walk on the beach. The rugged wind was blowing her longhair across her face, but she didn't really care. She wanted the wind to clean her head, to blow out the heavy pain sitting on her heart. Being a cold day she met nobody at the seaside, even the amusement park on the huge mole was empty. As she passed the bar placed in the middle of the jetty, she heard the soft music played inside, but there was nobody in there except from the barkeeper. Molly didn't mind the lack of people at all; all she wanted was to be alone, to straighten her thoughts and her heart. As she reached the end of the mole, she took a deep shaky breath from the fresh cold salty air suppressing another wave of crying. She leaned against the rail and stared at the waves chaining into each other again and again. 

__**Five hours earlier**

John woke up to the buzzing of his phone at 4am. He usually switched it off for the night, but this night was different. He was concerned about Sherlock, and would jump out of the bed immediately if Sherlock asked him to. However this text meant that his help wasn't required.

_You were right, and I was an idiot. Where is she? SH  
_  
John smiled widely and thought that he will save this text, or even print it on a huge poster.

_I will put that on a T-shirt for you. Brighton at her sister's according to Mary. JW_

John didn't' really expect any answer and he didn't get one.

**Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. **

**As you can see I would never make Molly do such an awful thing. She is kind, loving and honourable. Dear wild, I couldn't answer you, but now I did with this chapter. Hope if you read it, you forgive me to make you hate Molly in the last chapter.**

**I think it would be better for Sherlock and Molly to talk about these things previously, but I think in real life sometimes you just can't ask questions you can't bear to hear the answer the other perhaps gives. Maybe this story is overcomplicated, but I think life can create situations like this too. Hope I can count on you reading the next chapter. **

**And of course, please make me happy with every kind of review or feedback.**


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